


Orphans

by MrProphet



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 22:55:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10706871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrProphet/pseuds/MrProphet





	1. Welfare

Ossik Fehl knew that the attack was coming; he always had done. Usually he would let it come, knowing that fighting only made it worse; it was easier to roll with the blows than to get too involved. This time, however, there were only two of them – Kaen Koss and Raden Tahl – and, after fourteen years, Ossik had had it with taking a beating.

Koss walked swiftly past Ossik and aimed a swing at the back of his head. Ossik stopped and ducked without looking, then swept Koss’s legs out from under him while the older boy was still off-balance. Tahl sprang at Ossik, who dropped and rolled backwards, flipping Tahl over him.

The two older youths rose unsteadily to their feet. Ossik stood facing them, unruffled.

“We’ll get you for this,” Koss threatened.

Ossik shrugged. “You can try,” he agreed. Kaen Koss was a burly boy and Raden Tahl, although he was slighter, was wiry and strong, but they were both slow and Ossik knew that he could beat them easily, even together.

Koss and Tahl lunged for Ossik, who turned and ran.

*

Koss and Tahl were easy to evade. Although they were older than Ossik, they had never really explored the less used passages of the old building.

Once he was sure he wasn’t being followed, Ossik made his way up to the roof garden of the orphanage. Actually, the garden had been there when the orphanage was set up and clearly hadn’t been tended to since. Most people had forgotten that it was there and Ossik had discovered that it was a perfect place to hide from the cares of his life. The plants grew thick and fragrant around a wide, tangled lawn and there was a large pond where fish swam. Ossik sat down under a broad, tall hinda tree and closed his eyes.

He must have slept, because it was mid-afternoon when he was woken by a soft voice. “Ossik?”

His eyes fluttered open. Sister Dignity stood over him, smiling gently down at him. He had never suspected that anyone else knew of the garden, but it did not surprise him that if anyone did, it was Sister Dignity. She was the youngest of the Siblings who tended to the orphans, but Ossik was sure that she was the wisest. She had a kind way about her and huge, grey eyes which seemed to penetrate the depths of his soul. Her white robe was soft and supple, unlike the starched gowns of the older Sisters or the austere grey habits of the Brothers. 

“The Principal wants to see you,” Dignity told Ossik.

Ossik liked Dignity – as most of the boys did; she was not just the youngest of the Siblings but by far the prettiest – but the Principal was not the kind of woman whose life involved a great deal of liking. The Principal was the opposite of Sister Dignity. The older girls in the east wing looked up to Dignity as a model of strength and beauty, while the older boys were drawn to her in… other ways. None of the orphans felt anything but fear when they thought of the Principal.

“Is this about the fight?” Ossik asked.

Dignity nodded. “What ever possessed you, Ossik?”

He shrugged angrily. “I was just fed up with getting beaten,” he said. “The other boys are so slow and clumsy; I could take any three of them.”

“Then why do you get beaten at all?” Dignity asked.

“Because they come after me in gangs,” Ossik replied.

“I see.”

She sounded disappointed; Ossik hated to disappoint her. At fourteen, his feelings for the pretty Sister were becoming complicated, but he knew that he wanted to please her more than anyone else he knew. “Sometimes… Sometimes I think I should just…” Ossik tightened his hands into fists.

“It’s understandable,” Dignity told him. “No-one likes to be made a victim.” Her grey eyes measured him steadily.

Ossik shrugged again, but this time there was only weariness in the gesture. “I’ll come and see the Principal,” he sighed.

*

The Principal was strict and severe, with a tight-skinned face and small, black eyes. She wore a starched wimple and a high collar and her pure white dress was inevitably spotlessly clean and starched until it crackled. She was never seen without a slender metal switch in her right hand.

“You know the rules of this establishment, Fehl,” the Principal said in her soft, dry voice. “Fighting is absolutely prohibited at this orphanage, and yet you were seen attacking two of your fellow residents.”

“They attacked me,” Ossik replied, although he knew this would not be accepted. The rules certainly stated that fighting was prohibited, but Ossik had long ago discovered that this actually only applied to fighting  _back_. The Principal positively encouraged a level of bullying as an informal disciplinary measure.

The Principal’s eyes narrowed and the switch slashed out across the desk, cutting a long welt along Ossik’s hand. “You are an insolent boy,” she announced. Another slash; another welt. “You are a troublemaker.” Slash; welt. “And troublemakers are not tolerated here.” Slash…

Ossik’s hand darted out and caught the metal rod in flight. With a twist of his wrist he plucked the switch out of the Principal’s grasp and flipped it into the air, catching the handle. For a moment his hand shivered, ached even, to slash the switch across the Principal’s tight, grey face, but he mastered the impulse and tossed the instrument behind him.

“How  _dare_  you,” the Principal hissed. She rose to her feet and laid her hands on the desk, leaning forward over Ossik. “You will be punished for this outrage…”

“Madame Principal,” Sister Dignity said softly. “It would be more in character for Koss and Tahl to have started the fight. Fehl has always been a quiet boy.”

“I have  _never_  trusted quiet boys,” the Principal insisted. “Fehl, you will be beaten before the entire orphanage; boys  _and girls_ ,” she added, threatening the ultimate humiliation.

Sister Dignity gave a gentle cough. “Perhaps isolation would be more apt,” she suggested.

“Sister Dignity…”

“Principal.”

Something passed between the two women and, to Ossik’s surprise, it was the Principal who backed down. “Five days,” she decided. “Take him to the box, Dignity.”

*

The box was a wooden cube, four feet along each side. It stood in the yard, where the light of the sun would fall on it throughout most of the day. Most children would be delirious with heat after a day. After three days, Ossik was beginning to feel numb and the cuts on his hand were throbbing painfully. He had always had a knack for ignoring pain and discomfort, cultivated over the course of many years of bullying, but even he was reaching the end of his endurance. 

At least dusk brought a little relief, but the tiny vents on the sides of the box let little of the cool, night breeze in and the ache in his hand was growing worse.

A hazy, fevered half-sleep was broken by a sharp hiss and snap and a sudden cool as the box was flung open.

“Here.” A bottle was shoved into his good hand. “Drink; just a few sips.”

Ossik took several deep draughts of cool water before the bottle was pulled away from his lips. Slowly his head cleared and he was able to stagger from the box.

“Oh! What is that stink?” Ossik tried to focus on the woman who was speaking, but his vision was blurry.

“Ah,” she said. “It’s you. And what have they done to your hand?” After a moment he felt the sting of an injector and the pain in his hand began to recede.

“Go easily,” the woman cautioned as she bound his cuts. “That was a bad infection; you’ll be weak.”

She was not one of the Sisters, although there was something about her which reminded Ossik of Dignity. She could not have looked less like the Sister, however, with her raven hair and dark skin matched by black tunic, pants and cloak. She was young, perhaps only a few years older than Ossik, but her expression was hard.

“Thank you,” Ossik gasped.

“Never mind that,” the woman – despite her youth, he couldn’t think of her as a girl – whispered. “We have to go.”

“Go?” he asked. “Leave the orphanage?” His heart rebelled. He had long dreamed of escaping from the Principal’s tyrannical regime, but leaving the orphanage would also mean leaving Sister Dignity.

“Yes,” the woman agreed, “and quickly, before…” She turned suddenly, taking a long, curved, black-and-silver tube from beneath her cloak.

“Before what?” Sister Dignity walked out of the shadows. Perhaps it was Ossik’s imagination, but her white robe seemed to hug her figure more closely and she had shed her veil, allowing her blonde hair to fall freely around her shoulders. “This is kidnapping, Hasai Che’en.”

“Agna Heth,” the woman in black spat. She moved a short distance away from Ossik and faced Dignity, looking like a dark shadow of the pale Sister.

Sister Dignity smiled softly. “Ossik; come to me. This woman is very dangerous, a terrorist and a killer.”

Ossik moved at once towards Dignity’s side.

“Wait!” Hasai Che’en called. “Stay away from her, boy.”

“Please, Ossik,” Dignity begged. “Trust me. This woman means you harm.”

“No!” Hasai ran forward, a shaft of violet light blossoming from the device in her hand. Dignity moved to meet her; a green blade flashed into life in her own grasp and rose to block Hasai’s attack.

Ossik backed away from the two women as they circled, their blades sparking and crackling against one another. The unknown woman was clearly very skilled, but Ossik was amazed to see that Sister Dignity matched her, blow for blow. The two blades circled and clashed in quick, elegant movements. Hasai was the fiercer fighter, but Dignity seemed more focused.

“Upstairs, Ossik!” Dignity ordered, when she could spare the breath. “Go to the roof; I’ll meet you. You know where.”

Ossik ran. He found the stairs and fled up to the roof garden. When he got there he was surprised to find that a small starfighter had landed in the midst of his quiet sanctuary.

Suddenly, a dark figure sprang up onto the roof beside him. “Ossik…” Hasai began, but then Dignity was there, cresting the side of the roof with the same uncanny grace as her opponent.

Hasai turned and began to activate her sword, but Dignity held out her hand and an invisible force knocked the dark woman to the ground. The black-and-silver grip spun from her grasp.

Dignity advanced, her own sword flashing back into life. Hasai rolled with the blow and tumbled behind the starfighter. “This is something of a comedown, isn’t it?” she called. “Haunting an orphanage and stalking children.”

“Hardly a child,” Dignity said. “He’ll make a fine addition to the Order.” She grinned. “I might even take him as my own apprentice, if my Master approves. Surely you see the potential, else why would you take the risk of coming here to kidnap him?”

“He just seems a little young for you,” Hasai called back.

“He’ll grow,” Dignity laughed. “And at least I knew his name; I did not need to hear it from you. Anyway, you are a fine one to talk. You usually look for a dirty old man to hide behind. Are you getting frisky, or just looking for a fresher meat shield?”

With a cry of fury, Hasai sprang up and over the starfighter, her dark face contorted with rage. She held out her hand as she flew through the air and her sword leaped up towards her, but before she could catch the hilt, Dignity flung out her hand again. A storm of blue-white lightning leaped out to tear into Hasai’s body.

Hasai screamed in agony. Her body twisted in midair and fell heavily to the rooftop. She shuddered helplessly and her cloak smouldered.

“It’s pitiful what passes for a Jedi these days. Not that your so-called Masters gave me any more trouble. Your mother; now she put up a much better fight,” Dignity said, stalking towards the fallen warrior and lifting her sword to strike.

“No!” Ossik called. “You can’t!”

Dignity turned to him with a wry style. “And why not?”

“Because… There’s no need for it,” he told her. “This is your starfighter?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, we can just leave her here.”

Dignity chuckled. “How quaint.” She reached down and picked up Hasai’s sword. “I think you’re right. I shouldn’t kill her.” She pressed the curved hilt into Ossik’s hand. “You do it.”

“What?”

“It’s a lesson you need to learn, Ossik. Obstacles must be removed; enemies must be shown no mercy. This woman is a killer and a terrorist; an enemy of the Empire. She must die.”

Hasai moaned weakly.

“Kill her,” Dignity breathed. “Take her life and become my apprentice in the Secret Order of the Empire.”

“But…” Ossik did not know Hasai and he still wanted to please Dignity, but it seemed so cold-blooded. So like the sort of thing Kaen Koss would have done if he had had the chance.

“Don’t,” Hasai groaned. “Ossik; you don’t know who you are. You are a child of the Jedi.”

Dignity laughed. “All the orphans here are children of the Jedi,” she crowed. “The Emperor Palpatine Orphange was built to contain the orphaned children of the enemies of the Empire and almost all of them grow up to join the Secret Order, either as footsoldiers or as Dark Side Adepts; even as Inquisitors. You would have been raised here if your mother had not ejected you from her starship before I could kill her,” she told Hasai. “ _You_  could have been my apprentice.”

“Never!” Hasai cried in a breaking voice. “I would still have grown up, like Ossik, to reject your teachings, Agna.”

“Most of these children have learned my lessons already,” Dignity assured her. “That the weak will always be destroyed by the strong.”

“Cruelty is not strength,” Hasai gasped.

“But it’s so much  _fun_ ,” Dignity quipped.

“I came because I knew.” Hasai was talking to Ossik again. She tried to rise, but slipped onto her back. “I felt the presence of one who had resisted the Principal’s corrupt teachings; one who had the potential to become a Jedi.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” Dignity said. “Ossik; better kill her quickly. We need to leave. Sister Prudence will probably raise the alarm when she finds the Principal’s body.”

“Body?”

“Oh, yes. I killed the dry old prune for what she did to you. There, you see; I did you a good turn, now you can return the favour.” She turned towards Hasai. “Kill her, and begin your journey to the Dark Side.”

“Just go, Ossik,” Hasai insisted. She struggled to rise, but Dignity pressed her down with a brutal telekinetic thrust. “Don’t worry about me,” the Jedi gasped. “Get as far away from here – and from her – as you can.”

Ossik looked from Hasai to Dignity and back. He pressed the control stud and lit the blade.

He swung.

Dignity casually brought her own blade up over her shoulder to block Ossik’s clumsy cut at her neck. She did not even look around. “It seems,” she said to Hasai, “that I will have to take a very firm line with this one.” She did not sound particularly sorry about this turn of events.

Ossik swung again, but Dignity turned, pushed his blade aside, and unleashed a devastating blast of lightning directly into his chest. Ossik dropped the sword and slid across the roof, pain lancing through every fibre of his body.

“You will still be my apprentice, Ossik,” Dignity assured him. “In fact, you will beg me to become your teacher.” She smiled cruelly and stalked towards him with a seductive sway. “And later, you’ll thank me for all I’ve done for you.”

A flash of violet light punched out of Dignity’s midriff. She dropped to her knees as Hasai withdrew her blade. Her sword tumbled to where Ossik lay on his side.

“But…” Dignity gasped, and then she toppled to her side and lay still.

“Cruelty is not strength,” Hasai said. “Restraint is not weakness.” She looked approving as Ossik struggled to his feet. “And those who have suffered are not so easily subdued by pain.”

Ossik met her gaze and nodded in acknowledgement.

Hasai pointed at Dignity’s sword; the hilt had the same shape as the Jedi’s, but was finished in gleaming electrum. “Take it,” she said.

“I don’t want it,” he said. “She…”

“It wasn’t hers,” Hasai assured him. “It was my mother’s. Agna took it from her body. You saved my life, Ossik; the sword is yours.”

Ossik bent and picked it up. “I don’t know how to use it,” he said.

“I can teach you a little,” Hasai offered. “If you want. Perhaps together we can find a Master who can teach us more?”

“I’ll… think about it,” Ossik allowed.

For the first time, Hasai smiled; it made her look considerably younger; and prettier, he realised.

“Good enough,” she agreed.


	2. Training

_Mama cried out once, stricken. Her opponent stepped back, not showing mercy, just savouring the kill. Mama turned to face Hasai, still strapped into the escape pod.  
_

_“Mama!” she screamed.  
_

_“Go, my love,” Mama whispered. “May the Force be with you.” For a moment, her eyes met Hasai’s and the infant girl felt all of her mother’s love wash over her.  
_

_Mama reached out her hand and then with the Force. The hatch of the escape pod slid closed. Through the small window, Hasai saw Mama lift her hand once in blessing and farewell. Her eyes stayed locked on Hasai’s as the crimson blade plunged into her back and out through her chest.  
_

_Hasai’s screams filled the escape pod as her mother fell. The killer’s smiling face filled her gaze for a moment, and then she lunged, driving the blade of lightsabre through the blast window and into Hasai’s heart. She fixed her smiling eyes on her victim and whispered her name._

*

“Hasai?”

Hasai Che’en sat bolt upright in her bed. Her lightsabre swept out in a fierce arc. Ossik Fehl hurled himself back from the bed and rolled across the floor, just barely keeping the whole of his head. He crouched in the violet glow, breathing hard.

With a hiss and a snap, the lightsabre deactivated. “Ossik?” she asked.

“You were screaming, Sai,” Ossik panted. “I was worried. I… I could feel your fear.”

Hasai swung her legs over the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I thought… I’d hoped the dreams were over when I killed Agna Heth, but…” She set her lightsabre on the bed and put her head in her hands. “I was five years old when she murdered my parents.”

Ossik sat beside her. “I was lucky, I suppose; I never knew my parents at all.”

Hasai shook her head. “I wouldn’t have missed those five years for the world. Besides; my mother… She gave me so much in just those last few moments.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Our minds touched,” Hasai explained. “Hers and mine. Just for a moment, but in that moment she gave me… knowledge. She showed me things about her life; about the Force; about the Jedi. The things I’m teaching you; many of them come from her.”

“When you say your minds touched,” Ossik said, “do you mean… you saw her die?”

“Right before my eyes.”

Ossik reached up and brushed the hair away from Hasai’s face. “Sai…” he began, but she stood and moved away from him.

“Since we’re up, we might as well press on with your training.”

Ossik closed his eyes. “It’s practice, Hasai; that’s all,” he said softly. “There’s nothing new; hasn’t been for three months.”

Hasai fixed him with a fierce look. 

“I know you haven’t taught me everything you know, Hasai, but whatever’s left, you’re keeping it to yourself.”

“I’m not…” Hasai shook her head. “I don’t really understand it,” she admitted. “I picked up the basics from my various masters, but… Five masters in eleven years, and every time I got close to something more advanced…”

Ossik looked up. “The Brothers and Sisters at the orphanage would go on leave occasionally. Sister Dignity – Agna Heth – was especially erratic about it; she’d go at odd times and never for more than three days except… In all the time I was there, she only took extended leave five times.”

Hasai leaned against the wall of her room. “So; personal for us both.” She pushed herself up. “Get your bo’sha, Ossik.”

*

Ossik waited in the cargo hold for Hasai to join him, running through a few practice passes with his bo’sha; a lightweight wooden sword which served in the absence of a proper training sabre. Ossik had carved his own; Hasai had suggested it would be good mental preparation for when they had the parts and focusing crystals necessary for him to create his own sabre.

When Hasai still failed to appear, Ossik switched to his real sabre – or rather, Hasai’s mother’s sabre – for a few kata. The bo’sha’s wooden blade was extraordinarily light and he had deliberately added weight to its curved handle, but the balance was still different. The lightsabre’s electrum hilt fit snugly into his palm, and Ossik knew already that when the time came, he too would construct his sabre after the pattern of Master Tula Che’en’s weapon.

He felt, rather than saw, Hasai arrive. Ordinarily he would have continued his practice, but today he simply shut off his blade and turned to face his…

“What’s wrong?” Hasai asked. She held her own bo’sha in a loose grip and wore her sabre at her hip.

“I don’t know,” Ossik replied.

“I can sense your turmoil,” she said. “Your confusion about… about me?”

“I don’t know,” Ossik repeated. “I just don’t know about you. You sense my feelings; well I can sense yours, if not as well, and I still don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand?”

“Us! What are we?” Ossik demanded.

“Jedi… Or something like it.”

“But  _us_? Are we even friends?”

“I’m your teacher,” Hasai insisted.

“But…” Ossik shook his head.

Hasai threw her bo’sha aside. “No buts,” she insisted. She unhooked the lightsabre hilt from her belt and activated it. “Now, learn!” 

She attacked, fast, using a single-handed technique. Ossik reactivated his lightsabre and took up a two-handed, defensive stance, warding off the furious assault. He could feel the fear and rage boiling inside Hasai and it began to infect him. He shifted his grip and counterattacked. Hasai effortlessly deflected every stroke and Ossik backed away, exhausted and angry at himself for making such a futile effort. 

Hasai had grown up on the run. She was a brilliant, innovative fighter, full of tricks, but weak on discipline. The orphanage had not given Ossik much besides pain, but it bred patience in his heart and soul. He was already the better technical fighter, lacking only her long-honed physical memory. All that was for naught, however, if he let himself lose control and what followed was already a foregone conclusion. All Ossik could hope to do was delay the inevitable defeat.

Despite this, the sheer, acrobatic savagery of Hasai’s attack took Ossik completely by surprise. She attacked without hesitation or restraint, hacking at Ossik’s defence until she saw an opening and then…

Ossik stumbled back, clutching at his wounded arm. His lightsabre fell to the deck and deactivated itself. For a moment, he was certain that Hasai would follow up and cut him in half, but then she stepped away and deactivated her own blade.

“This is what I am to you, Ossik,” she hissed. “A teacher; and a hard one at that. I’m not your friend, I’m not your sister, and I’m certainly not your lover. I am not soft, nor warm, and I don’t need a teenager mooning after me.”

“I do not moon,” he insisted. “And why?”

“Why?”

“Why do you always push me away?” he demanded. “Two years we’ve travelled together, and sometimes I think I know you as well as I know myself. I know you can be warm, and loving, but you won’t show it; even when you want to.” He straightened up and tried to ignore the burning of his wound. “Why do you insist on being alone when you’re so lonely?”

Hasai turned away from him. “Stupid Force bond,” she muttered. “I can’t hide anything from you; even for your own good.”

Ossik put his hands on Hasai’s shoulders. “Tell me,” he said.

“People I love die,” she whispered. “My mother, my masters; everyone I’ve been close to…”

“Was killed by Agna Heth,” Ossik reminded her. “You’re not… cursed. She was pursuing a personal vendetta and that means it died with her. And you saved me from her; from the orphanage.”

“By chance!” Hasai snapped.

“What?” Ossik was baffled. “You said you sensed my presence. You were there to rescue me before I became corrupted.”

Hasai turned to face him with tears in her eyes. “I sensed your presence when I was already there. I came to kill her. I almost left you. I wanted to kill her and leave you. My plan was to destroy your only friend in that dreadful place and die doing it. I’m not your friend, Ossik,” she insisted.

“Your heart says otherwise,” he replied.

Hasai dropped to her knees, the tears flowing freely down her face now. Her secret was told and the last wound which Agna Heth had left on her soul was healed. She felt a knot of fear and self-loathing in her heart untie itself and break free, flooding her with joy.

Ossik knelt in front of her. “Whatever you came for, you  _did_  save me, and you have been the best friend I have ever known.”

Still weeping, Hasai threw back her head and laughed in pure delight. From that day on, she never dreamed of her mother’s death again.


	3. Craft

First the casing; a gently curved cylinder of durasteel shaped in the forge over a period of nine days, electroplated against corrosion. Soft, krayt-leather handgrips fixed with glue and slender pins. Belt-hook fixed to the pommel cap with a staple.

“The case is where the lightsabre meets the skin,” she whispered softly. “When the case is balanced, the lightsabre will answer truly to the wielder’s hand.”

_“Hasai! Wake up, my darling.”  
_

_Hasai Che’en blinked away sleep and looked up into her mother’s eyes. “Mama?” she asked.  
_

_“Quickly, my darling,” Mama said, gathering Hasai into her arms.  
_

_“Home now?” Hasai asked sleepily.  
_

_“No, sweetie; we’re not home. I’m sorry, Hasai, but we’re not going to get home.” She grabbed Hasai’s bear and hurried from the room._

Next the power source; a diatium power cell housed within an inert insulating block. Semiconductor energy gates to guide the and moderate the release of power from the cell.

“The cell is the core. Power flows from the cell, as the Force flows from the core of the being,” she whispered. “If the power is strong, the blade is strong.”

_Mama ran along the companionway towards the front of the ship. Hasai could feel her mother’s panic infecting her and she began to cry.  
_

_“Hush, baby,” Mama whispered, forcing calm upon herself to ease her daughter’s mind. “Don’t make a sound, my love.”  
_

_“Daddy?” Hasai grizzled.  
_

_“Daddy will be here soon,” Mama lied._

Next, the emitter matrix and focusing array. Magnetic coils of transparisteel; circuitry so fine that no hand could have shaped it, all assembled through the power of the Force. Lenses ground on the lathe of her mind; shaped and polished and placed with the Force.

“From the matrix the blade flows into the world; the lenses give shape and clarity.”

_The front of the ship was split into two levels. The upper deck was the observation gallery, to which Mama often brought Hasai. The lower deck was the evacuation bay, from which the escape pods were launched.  
_

_Mama went down to the bay and opened one of the pods. “We have to go, my darling,” she said as she buckled Hasai into a seat. “Daddy is setting a course to take us close to a planet. We’ll be out of hyperspace for mere seconds; they’ll never trace where…”  
_

_“A good plan.”  
_

_Mama spun to face the newcomer. Hasai strained around to see her. She was little more than a child, but she moved with confidence and grace and there was nothing childlike about the smile on her beautiful face.  
_

_“Unfortunately, Master Che’en, your husband will not be joining you.”  
_

_“You killed him,” Mama accused. She unhooked the lightsabre from her belt, a graceful, curved hilt, plated with electrum.  
_

_The girl let her white cloak fall away, revealing a lightsabre in her own hand. “It was a shame, but he was too dangerous to keep as a pet.”  
_

_Mama’s lightsabre flashed, and a crimson blade rose to meet it._

Last, the three focusing crystals. A mephite crystal taken from the caves of Ilum by her own hand. A rare pontite crystal, left for her in her mother’s workshop. The pearl from the same krayt dragon, a pain-maddened maneater slain by her hand, whose skin now padded the lightsabre’s hilt.

“The crystal is the heart of the blade, the guide and the spirit of the lightsabre,” she finished.

She focused on the three crystals, meditating deeply on their colour and form and structure, binding their Force signature to her own and to each other and finding their perfect alignment. The pontite was cool and calm; the mad dragon’s pearl was rage. The unassuming mephite a perfect moderator, and yet there was imbalance. Try as she might, she could not keep the fury of the pearl from overwhelming the arrangement.

_Mama was a superb duellist, but incredibly the girl was her equal in skill, and more than her match in ferocity. She attacked with a withering, graceful fury which should have left her spent, but seemed rather to feed than exhaust her.  
_

_Hasai found her heart racing in sympathy with her mother’s. Pain blossomed across her chest as the red blade scorched Mama’s breast.  
_

_Mama cried out once, stricken. Her opponent stepped back, not showing mercy, just savouring the kill. Mama turned to face Hasai, still strapped into the escape pod.  
_

_“Mama!” she screamed.  
_

_“Go, my love,” Mama whispered. “May the Force be with you.” For a moment, her eyes met Hasai’s and the infant girl felt all of her mother’s love wash over her.  
_

_Mama reached out her hand and then with the Force. The hatch of the escape pod slid closed. Through the small window, Hasai saw Mama lift her hand once in blessing and farewell. Her eyes stayed locked on Hasai’s as the crimson blade plunged into her back and out through her chest.  
_

_Hasai’s screams filled the escape pod as her mother fell. The girl’s smiling face filled her gaze for a moment, and then there was the rush of acceleration, the dark of the launch tunnel, and the blur as the ship powered back to lightspeed.  
_

_Hasai Che’en screamed and screamed and screamed._

Tears welled in Hasai’s eyes at the memories, so inescapable here in her mother’s workshop. It had taken her ten years and the guidance of her gentle master to unlock the secrets which her mother had communicated in that last glance; the instructions to gather the components, the directions to return to her home and find the hidden workshop; the secret hiding place of the pontite crystal. Now, within touching distance of completion, it all seemed for naught; the dragon pearl refused to release its rage.

A tear ran down her dark cheek and dropped straight onto the focusing crystals. For a moment, panic threatened to overwhelm her, but then she felt the balance shift; as though lubricated by her tears, the crystals slid into perfect alignment and the weapon came to life with a kind of sigh.

Slowly, her attention returned to the real world. With a thrill of fear she heard footsteps close outside the door.

What remained was simple enough. She held out her open hand, palm downwards over the lightsabre. Under her Force-touch the weapon rose up. The components slid easily into the curved hilt and the pommel cap sealed itself closed. The external switches slid and locked into place and the transparisteel emitter shroud slipped home.

The hilt rose the last few inches and she closed her hand around it. She could feel at once that the weight and balance of the weapon was perfect. With the lightsabre – her lightsabre – in her grasp, she became aware of her surroundings in a way that he had never known. More than mere awareness, she felt the dragon’s rage well up, but tempered by the calm of the pontite crystals and quenched in the tears shed for love of her mother.

The door burst open and a Stormtrooper entered. Hasai brought the lightsabre up, over her shoulder and the blade snapped on, defelcting the Trooper’s blaster bolt right back into his body.

She turned, bringing the blade around in front of her. It was almost 1.4m long and burned with a soft, violet light.

Hasai stepped forward, a quick thrust transfixing the Trooper’s torso and piercing the chest of the man behind him. They fell together and she moved forward.

A man stood in the corridor, a red-bladed lightsabre in his hand. He was older than Hasai and he looked strong and skilled. She knew herself to be skilled, but had never been tested in earnest before.

The Dark Side Adept moved first; his attack was strong, a powerful overhead blow. Hasai stepped beneath the stroke and her blade cut most of the way through his body.

She was amazed how easily it came; it disturbed her a little that she had killed three men so quickly and easily. She pushed the feeling aside, she would deal with it later, and ran.

In the courtyard, Master Kothis was fighting for his life. The big Weequay was skilled, but his opponent was practically dancing rings around him. Her speed and grace were incredible; greater even than when she had killed Hasai’s mother.

With a graceful flip, the Adept broke away from the fight. “Hasai Che’en!” she called. “I was waiting for you. After a decade of searching for you I thought I owed you the chance to  _see_  me kill your Master.”

Hasai started forward. “No!” she cried, activating her lightsabre.

The Adept lifted her own blade; it was green, with a curved, electrum plated hilt. “I think we have a match,” she laughed.

“That is my mother’s,” Hasai growled.

“Then come take it back.”

“No!” Kothis growled. “Agna Heth is too strong for you, Hasai. You must run now!”

“I won’t!” Hasai insisted.

Agna Heth sprang forward with a laugh of malicious delight. Kothis leaped to meet her and their lightsabres locked.

“Run!” Kothis roared, and in her mind she heard her mother’s voice echoing the instruction.  _“Run!”_

Hasai hated it, but knew that she could not fight her enemy yet. She also knew that Master Kothis had chosen to give his life for hers, just as her mother had done.

One day she would fight Agna Heth. One day her mother and her master would be avenged. One day her lightsabre would find the Dark Side Adept’s heart and end her reign of terror.

Today, she ran.


	4. Unbreakable

It was Ossik's idea, fighting without weapons, to avoid both unnecessary bloodshed and unnecessary exposure. He'd learned to fight unarmed in the Palpatine Home for Orphans and begun to teach Hasai, who had helped him to refine his techniques. After six months of this, five men, two carrying vibroblades and one a blaster pistol were hardly worth breaking stride, let alone drawing her lightsabre.

She leaned back,letting a vibroblade buzz past above her, then straightened. She reached out to strike the man's wrist, jolting the blade from his grip, and followed up with a sharp blow to the solar plexus. She sensed the second attack from behind and sidestepped, catching the outstretched arm and twisting the wrist. The knife dropped from his hand into hers. A turn of her body tipped her attacker over her shoulder and into the path of a blaster bolt. 

Hasai snapped out a hand and sent the vibroblade into the pistolier's shoulder. A quick kick to the chin felled a man as he stooped for the dropped knife, and a spinning kick sent the last reeling.

With four men groaning on the floor, Hasai advanced on her first attacker, who was still clutching his broken wrist. She grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall of the bar.

“Where is he?” she demanded.

“I... I don't know...” His eyes strayed past her shoulder; a movement reflected in his pupils and a soft buzz sounded behind her.

Hasai's hand dropped to her belt and then reached out behind her, violet light blossomed across her face and a body folded to the floor behind her. “Where is he,” she whispered.

*

Ossik had been missing for three days. Finding where he had been taken from had been easy enough – no-one could have taken  _him_  quietly; in fact, there had been three deaths and nine severe injuries, leaving only the five members of the gang that Hasai had faced – but where they had taken him, that was a different question. All Hasai had been able to learn, even once she tracked down and questioned the remnants of the gang, was that they had been hired by a robed man and had handed Ossik over to him.

He was still on Dromios, she was sure of that; she could sense him, but not keenly enough to seek him out. She was reduced to going from bar to bar, asking the same questions over and over. Now of course, she'd slipped; using the lightsabre meant that someone else would be following  _her_  trail; the Empire wouldn't let even the possibility of a Jedi slip.

So she moved their things from the hab block back to the hold of the  _Star Dancer_  and took up residence there again, ready to run. She spread out her mat on the floor of the control room, blast shields down to hide any lights, and sat cross-legged, striving to meditate. 

“Where are you, Ossik?” she asked in a whisper. The sense of him was tantalisingly close and resonated with a pain that tore her heart. Wherever he was, he was hurting.

She got up and paced the cabins, her eyes straying back to the bundle of his things. A product of an Imperial orphanage, he had never learned to value possessions and still had very little. The one thing he seemed to value...

Hasai reached down and touched the hilt of his lightsabre at her belt; her mother's old lightsabre. The gang had let it fall when they attacked him and paid it no mind after the fight; she suspected their robed employer had not thanked them for that oversight.

The peace and focus of meditation eluded her. Every time she tried to settle her mind, Ossik's pain intruded on her. Towards morning she gave up and caught a few hours sleep, but even in her dreams she could not escape the sense of her friend's peril and theturmoil is caused in her.

*

The next day, Hasai hit the streets again, but without hope of fresh information. Instead she quartered the city, walking to and fro, trying without success to triangulate Ossik's location. She was by now near frantic with worry and only her training and discipline kept her from outright panic. At last she gave up, sat down on a step and put her head in her hands.

A pair of Stormtroopers stalked past and one cast a look down at her. “Drunk,” he said.

“Nah,” his companion replied. “She's in love.”

Hasai looked up in surprise, at first startled by the Stormtrooper's assumption, and then quite staggered as a powerful sense of Ossik's presence rolled over her. Suddenly and without a doubt she knew exactly where he was, who was holding him and why they were hurting him.

“It's a trap,” she said, standing up.

“Ma'am?” the Stormtroopers turned back towards her.

“Um... love,” she replied. “Is a trap.” She smiled as brightly as she was able and walked away.

She knew now. Knew that it was an Imperial agent who had him; knew where he had him; knew that he was being hurt to draw in the partner that the agent knew he had.

Well, she would answer that call, walk into the trap with her eyes wide open, let it spring on her... and woe to the trappers.


	5. Breaking Point

It was as though, after all the injuries of her life, the universe – the living Force itself – had decided that she needed one last, savage kick in the metaphysical teeth.

“Too old,” she muttered, trying to smother the hurt with anger. “Too old to be trained. Too old to learn control.”

The streets of the Midden stank, lined with the detritus of the shining city above. After eight years, she had almost got used to it, but after the beauty of the overcity it was unbearable. She began to cry, and pounded her fist against the wall to hide her sorrow.

“I hate them!” she screamed. “I hate the damned Jedi!”

“All of them?”

She spun around, reaching for her knife, but the Jedi had taken even that when they brought her to the overcity. When they threw her back onto the streets, they had not returned it. It would have done her little good; the man who faced her as a Jedi.

“What do you want?” she spat.

“To help you,” he promised. “They said I was too old, once, but someone had faith in me. He trained me himself. I'll do the same for you, but it has to be our secret.” He held out his hand. “Will you come with me?”

She seized his hand eagerly. “Yes!” she cried.

*

She was thirteen when she first killed for him, and so in love with her master that it drowned out every other emotion in her heart. He loved another, of course, but she knew that in time he would be hers. She returned with her prize, her heart glowing with pride, and was brought before a figure of jet and steel.

“Master Anakin,” she gasped.

“You... know me?” His voice was changed, deep and reverberating, but she knew that it was him; her beautiful master.

“I would know you anywhere.” she put up her hands and touched the black skull-face of his mask. 

He pulled away, just as he always did. “Is it done?”

She held out her prize, a curved lightsabre, plated with electrum. “Master Ch'en is dead, her husband also. Her daughter fled, but I will find her.”

He took the lightsabre from her hand and lit the blade. He moved it slowly through the air in front of her and then laid the blade against her throat.

“Have I displeased you?” she asked in a trembling voice.

“And if you have?”

She lifted her hand to his and pushed, edging the blade against her skin. “If I have failed you, I must die.”

The lightsabre swung, but at the last moment the blade shut off. He took the hilt and pressed it into her hand. “Take this blade, Agna Heth.”

“I shall wield it in your name, Master Anakin.”

“In the name of Vader,” he corrected.

*

Fifteen years later, when she fell to the blade of Hasai Ch'en, Agna Heth died with his name on her lips. Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith; her one, true love.


End file.
